A Life Worth Living
by RackeltheRacoon
Summary: *Chapter 8 Up*In her seventh year, Hermione finds life too big a burden for her to continue living. Her only comfort is in her rapidly changing emotions towards a fairly overlooked figure in her life. Eventually HG/SS Please R&R :)
1. Lost in Thought

**A/N:** Yay! First chapter up :) Be warned, first chapters are not always as they seem – you'll have to read the next one to get a good idea of where the plot's going. Please R&R, it only takes a moment. Just let me know if anyone's actually reading this :)   
  
Disclaimer: Characters and settings all belong to JKR, save those not found in the HP books. No copyright infringement intended. 

* * * * * 

Chapter 1 - Lost in thought 

A familiar rustle of wings from overhead startled the trio from their excited conversation. 

"Heads, 'Mione," said Ron through a mouthful of jam and toast. Hermione jumped awkwardly out of the way as her copy of the Daily Prophet landed square in her plate, sending her breakfast flying. Both Harry and Ron burst out laughing as Harry attempted to prise her from his lap. 

Hermione glared at the pair of them, before pulling out her wand with the intention of cleaning up. "Not one word," she warned, echoing the threat in her eyes. She glanced at the remains of her porridge and her frown began to wobble; one small giggle escaped her lips. That was all it took for the three of them to be doubled up in laughter. 

The outburst caught the attention of Professor Severus Snape, sitting in his place at the High Table. Instinctively, his lip curled in a sneer and he made no attempt to control it. For sixth-years they acted extremely childishly at times, undoubtedly from lack of discipline. 

Snape stood, and glided softly towards the Gryffindor table, coming to a halt directly behind Hermione. "Why is it, Miss Granger, that you have a wand in your hand? Surely you would know the rules about magic in halls and corridors after five years of attending this school?" 

His voice was just as she remembered; silkily smooth, but ice-cold. How she had _dreaded_ hearing it again. "It is new, Proffesor, and I was just showing it to Harry and Ron." 

"You were not," he snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor. A wonderful start to the term." 

All three Gryffindors glared at the retreating back and again broke out in angry conversation. 

"Nice to see he hasn't lost his charm," said Harry, his voice dripping sarcasm. The others nodded in agreement. 

"You would have thought another couple of months without us would have sweetened him a bit," Ron said, gloomily. 

"It hasn't before," pointed out Hermione. "Do you remember the very first thing he said to us, in our first year? 'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making.' Well," she paused, "That was after having a go at Harry." 

He grinned. "He's always hated me!" 

Hermione looked up at the High Table. Snape had returned to his place and was talking quietly with Professor Neffler, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from the previous year. 

"Maybe," she said, "But I'm sure he has slightly more respect for you after last year." 

Harry lowered his gaze and stared down at the table. Hermione metally slapped herself for being so thoughtless. Of _course_ he wouldn't want to talk about last year. It was still a touchy subject through the whole of Britain. 

She bit her lip as painful memories flooded her thoughts. It had been about the beginning of the school year when Voldemort had killed the Dursleys. Dumbledore gave Harry the news, and to all appearances Harry took it alright. Then he ran away. Hermione had run out of tears over the two weeks he was missing. It was common knowledge that Voldemort was out to get him, and with renewed vigour. Harry had found Voldemort, goodness knows how, and killed him. Just like that. 

Dumbledore had once explained it too her. Apparantly, Harry had been able to release the controlled fury that had blended with his magic and it had literally torn the Dark Lord apart. Without the use of a wand. Of course, only precious few people knew what actually happened. Herself, Ron, Dumbledore, Neffler, McGonagall, Sirius, and Ron's parents, whom Harry had been staying with. It Was more commonly believed that Voldemort's Death Eaters had turned on him. 

Without having realised she had drifted off, Hermiones's mind was snapped back to the present by a light touch on her arm. 

"Hermione?" 

It was Ron, concern evident on his face. She relaxed, and smiled. 

"Lost in thought," she murmured, and got up from the table. Students were already moving out of the Great Hall. "Come on, being late the first Potions of the year is definetely not a good idea." 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then hurried to join Hermione. Arm in arm the three left the hall. 


	2. Grim Reality

**A/N:** Argh, another short chapter :( Why is it that everything I write gets so depressing? I'll try and lighten up, promise... 

***** 

Chapter 2 - Grim Reality 

_And what went so wrong?_ thought Hermione, staring out of her window. Her private chambers had a picturesque view of the Hogwarts Grounds, now partially hidden by a fine sprinkling of early snow. It had been a long time, though, since she had found anything beautiful about it. 

A bitter smile crept to her lips. Oh, she knew what went wrong. Death Eaters had killed her parents, only three weeks after the start of her sixth year at Hogwarts. _After_ Voldemort was killed. _After_ all the Death Eaters had supposedly been caught and taken to Azkaban. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy and his supporters had somehow slipped the net. 

Hermione sighed, and left the comfort of the window seat to place her book back on the shelf. She did not feel like reading. 

Draco Malfoy. She shivered with disgust at the very thought of him. She hated him, despised him more than she had thought she could another person. With the possible exception of Snape. Hermione shivered again and moved to stoke the dying fire in the hearth. 

The pair of them had made her life hell for the past year. Even after his father had been arrested, Malfoy made it quite obvious that he was involved in the murder of her parents, tormenting her day after day. And Snape. How she _loathed_ the venomous Potions master. While every other Professor had sympathetic and supportive, Snape had simply told her to get on with her life. _Get on with my life!_ thought Hermione, furiously. _How _dare_ he!_ But none of them really knew... 

Hermione was surprised as she felt a single tear make its way slowly down to her chin. She thought she had long hardened herself to the emotion that ever threatened to overwhelm her. But it was true, none of them knew just how much her parents meant to her. They were her _life_, everything she did, everything she achieved, was all for them. 

Without her parents, she had nothing to live for. Harry and Ron were wonderful friends, and she loved them for it, but never in the way she knew Harry loved her. She could see it in his eyes, in his every movement. But she would not love again. 

She knew what she had to do 

***** 

"We really need to talk to Hermione." 

Surprised, Ron looked up from the game of Wizards Chess to meet Harry's gaze. "I was about to say the same thing," he said. 

"She's depressed. I mean, well, who wouldn't be, but it's just getting worse. I'm worried about her." Indeed, worry was etched into Harry's face. "I can't believe she missed out on Head Girl." His own hand drifted unconciously to his own Head badge. 

Ron shook his head, "I can. She was close to bottom of every one of her classes last year. She didn't even turn up to most of them." 

Harry ventured a look towards the stairs. "It was nice of McGonagall to give her her own room, but now she hardly ever comes down." 

"Perhaps we should go see Dumbledore. It's getting pretty serious, and she'll fail her N.E.W.T.'s if she doesn't snap out of it soon." 

"Don't forget it's her parents deaths we're talking about. How would you react if your parents were killed by Malfoy's father?" 

Ron turned scarlet and leapt up, scattering the angry chess pieces. "Malfoy! Ohhh, what I woudn't give to see the grin wiped off the ugly face of that...jerk," he finished, noticing the looks he was getting from the other students in the Gryffindor common room. 

Harry carefully picked up the fallen pieces and returned them to their box. "I think we should go see Hermione before we talk to Dumbledore. She'd be mortified if we talked to him about this. Best if we can avoid it." 

"So we don't tell her! He probably already knows. He doesn't miss a thing in this school!" 

"No, we see Hermione first. Besides," he added, "I have something to give her." 

"Alright, do we go tonight?" 

"Now. I just have to get something from the dormitory." 

Ron nodded and followed Harry up the stairs. 


	3. Altitude

**A/N:** Reviews! Thanks to everyone that's reveiwed so far, I really love all your comments :):):) Now, to business, I like this chapter! May be subject to a little change though, if anyone's too OOC. Please tell me if they are! 

***** 

Chapter 3 - Altitude 

Harry rapped cautiously at the door at the very top of the Gryffindor Tower. There was no response. Ron pushed him lightly out of the way. 

"Let me try," he said, and knocked rather impatiently, hard enough to bruise his knuckles. There was still no answer from inside. 

"That's wierd," said Harry, reaching for the doorknob. "Wonder where she could be?" 

The door opened with a soft click, and Ron frowned. "That's not like Hermione, doesn't she usually have a locking spell on her room?" He walked in, Harry behind him, and called her name. 

"She's not here, Ron," said Harry, glancing at the surroundings. A fire still blazed in the fireplace and there was a note on her bed. He picked it up and read it aloud. 

_Don't blame yourselves,  
Love, Hermione_

Ron paled and ran for the door. Harry dropped the small package he was carrying and raced after him, grabbing his shoulder. 

"Ron, stop. She could be anywhere, we need to find Dumbledore. He'll know where she is," Harry said, surprising both himself and Ron with his calm tone. 

Unable to speak, Ron nodded and they ran all the way to Dumbledore's office. Harry could have screamed his frustration at the sight of the stone gargoyle, and frantically started listing every wizarding sweet he could think of. He was down to Toothflossing Stringmints and Ice Mice when the gargoyle slid aside, and he found himself face to face with the Professor himself. 

"Harry! Ron! What brings you two here?" he asked, uncharacteristically surprised. 

"It's Hermione," they both blurted at once. 

Professor Dumbledore's bemused expression turned to one of concern, and he beckoned them into his office. Harry managed a tine smile when he saw Fawkes, looking magnificent in bright red and gold plumage. He let Ron tell Dumbledore of their discovery of the note and the conversation that had led to the visit to her chambers. 

Dumbledore nodded gravely and motioned for them to stay seated while he entered the adjoining room. 

"He must be contacting the other Professors," whispered Harry to Ron, who was so pale his freckles stood out. Neither boy was quite sure how to comfort the other, so both sat quietly simply taking comfort in the other's presence. 

***** 

Hermione had always loved the Astronomy Tower, having spent countless nights at its top, studying the stars and planets with her small Astronomy class. She had even visited it with Harry to deliver Norbert, Hagrid's pet dragon, into the hands of Charlie Weasly and his friends. 

But tonight, tonight was different. A sense of calm, even relief, settled over her as she ventured toward the edge of the viewing platform. Below her the castle was still and silent, not a sound could be heard from its grounds. The lake; so serene and seemingly untouched, yet ripples gently lapped at the water's edge. 

For the first time in years, Hermione felt at peace within herself. She sat, just taking in the scene for what seemed like hours, though judging by the candles she had left on the small table, it had been but a few minutes of reality. 

A cold breeze whispered past her, and she shivered. Slowly, she rose and moved to the very edge of the tower. There would be no backing out now; just one more step and she would be free of this uncaring world. Hermione took a last look around her, then closed her eyes and lifted a foot. For a moment she wobbled, but steadied herself and began to lean forward. _I'm coming,_ she thought desperately, as the faces of her parents entered her thoughts. 

The vision flickered and died as a cold hand gripped her arm. Hermione's eyes snapped open in fury, as she spun to face her assailant. 

It was Snape. 

"I didn't think you would actually do it," he said, pulling her further from the lip of the platform. His black eyes glittered in the candlelight as he continued, "Who would have thought, Hermione Granger, best student Hogwarts has seen for years, attempting suicide." 

There was no malice in his expression, but nor was there pity. He wore his usual cold, hard, emotionless look, and his complete lack of understanding made Hermione furious. 

"How dare you! You have no right to intefere, this is my life, you cannot comprehend, even begin to understand...," she trailed off as anger entered his own eyes. 

"I don't understand? Miss Granger, you are surely mistaken. If you knew anything of my past, you would not make such outrageous claims. Now, I suggest you go and find Professor Neffler, I...understand the pair of you are close." 

Hermione nodded, she knew that even in such a situation his tone was not one to be argued with. She started towards the stairs, but stopped and turned back around. However much she despised him, she had one question that needed answering. 

"Professor?" she asked, failing to hide the obvious hatred in her voice. 

He sighed impatiently, nodding for her to continue. 

"Why were you up here in the first place?" 

Snape seemed to be taken a little off balance. "I enjoy the fresh air," he told her. "Now you should leave, before you have any more ridiculous ideas concerning great heights." 

_What a load of rubbish,_ she thought as she descended the stairs. _A Potions master, enjoying being on top of the Astronomy Tower?_

A strange weakness settled in her knees as full realisation of what had just occured struck her. She sank to the ground at the bottom of the tower and curled up around herself, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. 


	4. Confrontations

**A/N:** Ohhhh, a flame....well, it could only be expected. Patience, Moria Polonius! I had taken your comments into considerating before reading them, and this chapter is the result.  
Hmmmmm, staying in character is getting a little difficult, please bear with me until I can sort my twisted ideas out :) 

***** 

Chapter 4 - Confrontations 

Professor Celia Neffler stood in the doorway to the hospital wing, silently observing the sullen figure sitting by the bed. Professor Snape felt the gaze, and rose to face the watcher. "What now," he asked, irritably. 

Without his back to her, Professor Neffler could see that in the last two days he had eaten little and slept less. His recent behaviour confused her; it was not his usual manner to be overly concerned about the welfare of a student, least of all a Gryffindor. "Perhaps you should get some rest, Professor. She might not wake for days yet." _She might not wake at all,_ said a small, bitter voice in her head. 

As Dumbledore appeared behind her, Snape bit back an angry comment on her right to complain about his well-being. "When she wakes, would you please inform Miss Granger that she is to see me in my office as soon as possible," he said instead, his icy tone directed at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He acknowledged Dumbledore with a small nod, and left the room. 

The headmaster pulled up a second chair and positioned it alongside the first, which Professor Neffler gratefully sank into. 

"She will be alright, Celia," he said gently. 

"Why is she still asleep? It's been over two days." Her voice was now weary, and the dark rings under her eyes were evidence of her own sleepless nights. 

"She is in a coma. You have not seen a comatose person before?" Neffler shook her head, and Dumbledore continued. "In most cases, a coma is induced by grievious physical injuries, but I believe that this," he indicated the prone figure on the bed, "is Hermione's mind's way of dealing with her emotional turmoil, so to speak." 

"But she will be alright?" 

"She will need your help, Celia. It was good of you to take her under your wing after the unfortunate events of last year, and I know how fond you are of her, but you must understand that you can never take her parents place. Do not try to. Comfort her as a friend, not an adult. She will respect you for it." 

Professor Neffler looked up from the Hermione's unmoving form to Dumbledore, her level gaze denoting the silent gratitude in her tear-bright eyes. The headmaster smiled, and patted her arm, then moved toward the door. 

"Before you go, Professor?" she said. 

"I take it your question concerns Professor Snape?" 

"Well, yes. Why is he so worried about Hermione? It's just not like him." 

"You would have to ask him to be sure, but it is my belief that Severus considers himself partly to blame for Hermione's recent actions. Perhaps he is. Only time will tell. Now I must leave you, I received an owl from the Ministry this morning, and I have matters to attend to." His brow furrowed."Ah, yes, that reminds me. The message concerns you, also, but this is not the time nor place to discuss it. If you could visit my office sometime in the near future, perhaps I could enlighten you somewhat." 

Professor Neffler blinked. She could have sworn she saw a flicker of - triumph? mixed with anger pass across Dumbledore's face, something she had not seen for a fortunately long time. However, turning back to Hermione, she had more important things to dwell on, and forgot it for the time. 

***** 

Snape sighed in contentment as he marked the last of the fourth-year essays with a large, flowing F. A small knock on the door startled him, and he put his quill aside. "Come in," he said, leisurely. 

It was the girl. Granger. He didn't know just who he had expected, but it certainly wasn't her. Curse her timing! For three days she had been on his mind, and just when he had forced all thoughts of her from his already-cluttered head, here she was, in his office. He straightened. 

"Professor Neffler sent me, sir," she said, in a bored tone. 

"I am glad to see you on your feet, Miss Granger. You have missed a lot of work. But that is not what I wanted to talk to you about. Please, sit," he said, summoning a chair. She looked at him, then at the chair, and remained standing. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lost its almost pleasant demeanor. "I told you to sit, Miss Granger," he repeated, his tone now dangerously soft. 

Reluctantly, she obliged, still not meeting his gaze. "I thought you had more sense than to attempt what you did. That was a very stupid thing to do," he remarked. The girl did not reply, averting her eyes. "Look at me," he said, suddenly. She did not move. "Look at me!" the Potions master demanded. This time Hermione did react, staring up at him with a defiant glare. Severus Snape knew that look, and it worried him. She was, after all, his student. "You would do it again, wouldn't you?" The remark was softly made, causing the mask of relative indifference to fall from her face. He smiled inwardly. 

"Yes, I would," she snarled, her otherwise pretty fase twisted into a sneer that impressed the Head of Slytherin. "I would have managed it the first time if _you_," The word was filled with loathing, "had not interfered!" 

Snape was now genuinly concerned. "I will have to notify Professor Dumbledore of your intentions, you realise," he said, to all appearances quite casually. "You may go now." Hermione stood, rather abruptly, and walked out of the room without so much as a backward glance. 

Snape could not help but stare after her in amazement. Surely this was not the same Hermione Granger that had first walked into his classroom? She was the last person at Hogwarts he had thought would attempt suicide. And she would have, he had no doubt about that. 

He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. What had a happened to Hermione Granger, that she should fall so far? Oh, he knew about the untimely deaths of her parents, how could he not? He gently rubbed the skin of his forearm where the Dark Mark used to reside. 

But that could not be all. Brutal as it sounded, the intelligent Gryffindor know-it-all should have eventually gotten over it, and gone on to make something of her life. Something else had happened, and he was determined to find out what. Now he was intrigued. 


	5. A New Beginning

**A/N:** Argh! Three days in Orange for a 25th wedding anniversary party (not mine!) right when I didn't need it. Aaaand I have a history assignment that quite desperately needs doing, so writing fanfiction is out of the question until its done. Grrrrrrr....Anyway, here's the next chapter - don't forget to review :) 

***** 

Chapter 5 - A New Beginning 

Hermione left the office angry, confused, and upset; emotions that had plagued her for nearly a year. The potions master had seen right through her, and it made her head spin. Who was he to know her thoughts, her feelings? Even _she_ could not make any sense of them! 

Her mind, as well as her feet, continued to wander until she found herself at the door to Professor Neffler's office. She knocked hesitantly, and then louder when there was not reply. Instead, Hermione turned in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. Having arrived unnoticed in the common room, she saw Harry and Ron engaged in conversation by the fire. She walked over to them, but stopped when she was close enough to hear what they were talking about. 

"...first match of the season, and she missed it! Come to think of it, she only went to one game last year as it was!" 

"I really don't mind, Ron. I know what it's like to lose your parents, I can understand why she's been so depressed." 

"But suicide? She mustn't care about _our_ feelings much, to try and kill herself like that! We've been so bloody careful not to say anything that might upset her, but even then she hardly listens! She acts as if we don't exist! I hate it, I thought she was a friend!" 

"That's not fair, Ron, you know this has been hard on her." 

"It's been a whole year, Harry. She can't keep going like this..." 

Hermione could not listen to any more, she had heard enough. Everything Ron had said was true. She fought to hold back the tears as she ascended the stairs leading up to her chambers. It was the first time she had entered them in four days, having been in the hospital wing since the incident on the Astronomy Tower. The sight of the note she had left brought on a flood of tears, and she threw it on the fire, which she had lit with a point of her wand. 

Drying her eyes with her robes, Hermione picked up the small, round package that lay on the floor. She carefully unwrapped it, and recognised it as a Love Crystal. Professor Trelawney had shown them one in Divination three years ago, explaining that it was a form of crystal ball that showed the wielder an image of their love, wherever they may be. Hermione gazed into it and saw nothing but greyish mist. 

So this was what her life had come to. She got up, and stood before her mirror. Her bushy hair had become wilder, and desperately needed attention. Her face had become gaunt; her eyes dull and surrounded by dark rings. She was thinner than she had been a year ago, and her robes were creased. 

Hermione stared at herself for a good few minutes before picking up a disregarded hairbrush from her dresser. It was time to get on with her life. 

***** 

After his brief, though exhausting, conversation with Hermione, Professor Snape had gone straight to Dumbledore's office, demanding entry with a brusque "Chocolate Frog,". He marched in to find the headmaster at his desk. 

"Severus! I would invite you in, but it seems you already are!" Snape was in no mood for small talk, and got straight to the point, explaining what had happened in his office. 

Dumbledore nodded sagely throughout the speech, and when he was done, said, "I think you will find Miss Granger is alright for the time being. She..." Dumbledore was interupted by a knock on the oak door. "Come in," he said, and the door opened. It was Professor Neffler that stood at the top of the spiral staircase. "Do have a seat, Celia," Dumbledore started, and Professor Neffler occupied the seat next to Snape, to his barely hidden disgust. "We were just discussing Miss Granger. Severus here is concerned about a second attempt on her life." 

Neffler frowned. She had thought that Hermione was just beginning to come to terms with what had happened, and said so. 

"But there must be something else!" insisted Snape, surprised at his own outburst, and that Dumbledore agreed with him. 

"Miss Granger has never given me any reason to believe that she is anything but a very level-headed and mature young lady. This behaviour is very unlike what I would have expected of her," Dumbledore added. "Has she given you any indication of an additional traumatising event, Celia?" 

"No...only, about a month after she initially received the news, and to all appearances was coping quite well, she stopped coming to me for almost a fortnight. The week afterward she seemed very vague, almost confused. Then her depression got much worse, and has been until the...night." 

"Was that the week following the last Christmas holidays?" enquired Snape. The professor nodded. "I gave her her first detention in six years that week, for making a mess of her Farseek Serum. The girl seemed to be very disconcerted, and couldn't pay attention." 

"Perhaps we should adjourn this conversation until Miss Granger's condition either improves or deteriorates. For now, I think we should leave her be, and let her face the facts alone. If one of you could inform Professor McGonagall of what has been said here, I would appreciate it," said Dumbledore, silently dismissing Professor Snape, who stood and left. "Now, Celia, about that owl. It seems that you were right about the connection between Lucius Malfoy and Macnair, he was arrested a few days ago after Malfoy admitted to his involvement in the rampage on Muggle families last year. I thought Miss Granger might attend the trial, but I leave it to you to decide if she is up to it." 

"Maybe, but I will have to speak to her about it," Neffler murmured. "Will that be all, Professor?" 

"Yes, thankyou, Celia," he told the ex-Auror. "Goodnight." 


	6. Understanding

**A/N:** Finally! This chapter has been so hard to write, and it's short! It seemed so much longer on paper :( Thankyou so so much to everyone who has reviewed, it means so much to have positive feedback, even if it's just evidence that people out there are actually reading what I write. Love you all!   
  
Special mentions go to:  
  
Snowieaddz,  
Aemos,  
Hecate Silvermoon,   
  
and of course,  
Des, who has been with ALWL since the beginning :) 

***** 

Chapter 6 - Understanding 

Hermione arrived at Professor Neffler's office just in time to see her friend leave the room. "Professor," she called. Neffler saw her, and gestured toward the open door. 

"Come in, I was just going to find you. I guess now I don't have to!" The girl smiled, though hesitantly, almost as if she had forgotten how. Professor Neffler marveled at the difference it made to her face, brightening her features and lifting the normally sunken eyes. When the pair where settled comfortably in soft armchairs by the glowing fire, the professor ventured to ask what had brought Hermione to her office. The Gryffindor took a breath and began to talk, immediately feeling the release of a burden she had forgotten she carried. She told her friend everything; her grief over the loss of her parents, how horrible she felt when she realised how she had been treating Harry and Ron, Harry's obvious feelings for her, even her hatred of Snape and Malfoy. Professor Neffler simply listened and extended a comforting arm as Hermione poured out her heart to the older woman. 

"I just want a fresh start," she finished,"I want to wake up tomorrow morning and not remember anything that's happened in the last year." The words sounded oddly familiar on her lips, and she pushed the startling sense of _deja vu_ aside. 

"You can't do that, Hermione, no-one can," Neffler said gently. "Your past is a part of you, you can never rid yourself of it. To try and forget a part of your own life would only lead to worse depression. But a fresh start is definitely a good idea! I suggest you apologise to Harry and Ron, and maybe go and talk to Harry about your feelings for him. He'll understand." 

Both sat in silence for a little while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Small talk followed, the first friendly conversation Hermione had had in months. Neffler decided against mentioning the trial, giving her time to sort things out with the boys, and herself, before confronting her with such a decision. 

Even after the girl left, the professor's thoughts strayed to Hermione. Snape was right, there was something else. Dumbledore knew it too, and must know more than he was letting on. Why else would he all but turn a blind eye to Hermione's condition? Depression was serious, she had already proven that. It was not like the headmaster she knew, at all. So many questions... 

***** 

"Damn!" Hermione cursed, fumbling for her wand. She had finally gotten around to a bit of rest and relaxation, and had promptly dropped her book out the open window. Dropping to her knees, she crawled to the edge of the window seat and tried to see where the book had landed. A trembling hand crept up to brush away the sweat already obscuring her vision. Ever since the night on the tower, Hermione had become very wary of heights, not entirely trusting herself around them. 

"_Accio_ book!" she shouted at the ground 50 metres below her. A small, leather-bound object came flying up at her, and she jumped away from the window to allow it in. Hermione frowned. This was not her book, it was a diary. _Her_ diary, she realised when she discovered her name printed neatly on the inside cover. It was dated two years back, and for the most part was filled with trivial entries noting due assignments and idle comments regarding friends and teachers. 

Towards the end of the year, however, the diary became more of a journal than a to-do list. Entries were lengthier and more personal; Hermione felt herself reliving every moment of her early sixth-year life. Then she came to the day her parents died. 

Involuntarily, her hands began to tremble as she slowly turned the pages, feeling for a second time the shock, denial, and despair that followed the deaths of her mother and father. Here the thin parchment was tear-stained, and the black ink was smudged. Still she read on, watching herself slowly come to grips with her loss. 

It was in the Christmas holidays of that sixth year that she first noticed the peculiar feeling that haunted the pages. Unlike the happenings of previous entries, these events were becoming more and more unfamiliar, almost alien to her. Hermione frowned and continued to read, the lack of memory frightening her. The further she went, the worse it got, until she had no recollection of the experiences she had recorded less than a year ago. 

Then she found out why. 

***** 

A memory charm. Of course, how could he have been so blind? Snape glanced sharply at the bushy haired girl sitting quietly behind a simmering cauldron. She was certainly bright enough to cast one, in all probability she was the cleverest witch Hogwarts had seen for decades. He sighed as he watched her whisper instructions in Longbottom's ear. 

"Detention, Miss Granger, 8 o'clock," he said lazily. She glared at him, but otherwise did not respond. Next to her, Potter and Weasley broke out in angry whispers. He sneered. "Potter. Weasley. You will join Miss Granger if you do not cease your useless prattle." The boys shut up, knowing full well that a warning given by the Potions Master was unusually lenient. Snape settled back in his chair, and took another look at Granger. The girl was outwardly studious and intelligent, yet inwardly, he knew, unstable and depressed. She reminded him so much of...his stomach gave a sickening twist. 

She reminded him of himself. 


	7. Unwanted Memories

**A/N:** Wow. Another chapter has arrived, after 3 months on hiatus :( I sincerely apologise for the extreme delay, I just had a lot to catch up on in my life, and had a lot catching up with me. The complete writers block didn't help either...(lol, Writers Block - private joke, don't worry 'bout it...) Anyway, it's here and all ready for reviewing. That's a hint, by the way ;)   


* * * * * 

Chapter 7 – Unwanted Memories

Garbed as she was in her biggest, fluffiest dressing gown, Hermione felt ready for anything. The soft bunny slippers were a nice addition, however necessary owing to the large expanse of cold, stone floor of her chambers that wasn't covered by the plush rug. With a quick last-minute glance in the full-length mirror ("You're not going out, are you? Well, stay warm, you don't want to get that cold back…") she left the room and descended the stairs.

The familiar hum of a crowded room reached her even before she could see the glow emanating from the bottom of the staircase. Standing nervously in the doorway, the pink-clad figure silently observed the array of Gryffindor students lounging in all corners of the common room. Not one noticed her. The thought was a little depressing, but she was determined to work things out once and for all with the boys.

Hermione could see Harry and Ron in their customary seats by the open fire, bent over an enormous pile of books and parchment. The old, but surprisingly comfortable armchair that she had claimed such a long time ago had been moved from it's position near the hearth to where a small cluster of first years sat on the opposite side of the room. A seed of doubt entered her mind. _Perhaps they're busy, perhaps now isn't a good time…_

Something large, warm and remarkably heavy slammed into her side, propelling her across to where the two boys worked, effectively making the decision for her. As it turned out, the big heavy object was actually Neville.

"Oh, sorry Hermione, sorry. Seamus's idea, you see. No, no, not to knock you over, the Invisible Airbag. He got it from Fred and George's in Hogsmeade last week. You walk into it without realising it's there, and bang! Out of nowhere you go flying in the opposite direction. I don't suppose you want a go?" Neville moved to give her a hand getting up.

Hermione winced as she accepted the offered arm, feeling new bruises with every movement. Something really had to be done about the hard, uneven floor of the tower. Once standing, she found herself face to face with Seamus, who was looking distinctly less apologetic than Neville had.

"It wasn't all my idea, besides, Neville volunteered to test it. Well, we volunteered him," he said with a shrug, indicating the huddle of sixth and seventh years over near the portrait hole. "Are you alright?"

Hermione tried to keep a straight face while trying to determine whether or not her hip was broken. Evidently, judging by the level of concern shown by Harry, who had moved from the fire to the scene, she hadn't succeeded. Ron, standing behind Harry, glared at Seamus, who shrugged but backed away.

"We'd better get you to Madam Pomfrey, 'Mione, that was one heck of a fall," Harry said, admiringly. Hermione snorted at his tone.

"Not half as impressive as falling fifty feet off a broomstick!" She grinned, still a somewhat awkward feeling. The fleeting thought of her ever-so recent depression soured her mood a little, and the bruises along her left side became even more prominent in her mind. Harry gently lifted her arm to his shoulder and helped her to the portrait hole and out into the corridor, Ron tagging along behind.

Even as she limped down the twisting labyrinth of halls and passages from the tower to the hospital wing, Hermione couldn't help but be painfully aware of Harry's persistent closeness; the way his steps were in time with hers, and the way he drew her arm closer around himself. She knew perfectly well about his feelings for her, she knew why he and Ron had gone to her room that night, and she knew that it was Harry that had left the crystal behind.

Right now, when she was so terribly confused as it was, those feelings were exactly what she didn't need.

***

"Now what have you been doing, Miss Granger? Trying to walk through walls?" 

The friendly matron chuckled as she applied a poultice to the obvious bruises on Hermione's side, and prodded her swollen hip with her wand. Hermione winced, and Madam Pomfrey nodded sagely. "Just what I thought, you've fractured it. Just a moment…" 

For what seemed to be entire minutes, but in reality was only a second or so, Hermione felt her hip grow hot, red-hot, and she gasped and clutched at Harry's arm. But it passed within moments, and felt immediately better for it. She stood and walked around the room, to the plump matron's approval, before thanking her and beginning the long walk back to the Gryffindor tower.

The three students were engaged in a conversation about Quidditch as they made their way through the corridors. Well, the two boys talked and Hermione listened, reminding her again of how much she had missed over the last year or so. In any case, it meant that Hermione was the first to notice their silent observer.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, coolly.

Professor Snape stepped out from the shadows. "I hope you all have good reason for being out of your common room," he said, cold eyes glinting even in the semi-darkness.

"I fractured my hip _in the common room_, Professor. Ron and Harry helped me to the hospital wing."

"I'm glad to see you are alright," Snape replied, in his usual sarcastic manner. Noticing her attire, namely the rabbit slippers, he added, "It is almost eight, Miss Granger, I'm sure you will have time to change, if you hurry." With that he swept off in the opposite direction, presumably on another nightly patrol. The boys looked puzzled, and Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. The detention. She'd completely forgotten about it.

All thoughts of finally having the reveal-all conversation with her best friends were banished, having only enough time to run to the common room, change into her robes and get back to the dungeons by eight o'clock. Damn the bastard.

***__

"Now half an ounce of powdered asphodel, slowly girl, stir it in slowly!" The Potions Master gave an exasperated sigh, as if he were teaching a group of particularly thick first years how to make the most basic of Lethargy Potions. Hermione struggled to keep her body language neutral while sitting at the front desk of the potions lab silently fuming. 

So, he knew. 

Hermione felt sick. Without telling her exactly what it was she was brewing, Snape had been giving her step-by-step instructions in the preparation of the potion she had to create for her detention. An unjustified detention at that. Inwardly, she groaned. An unfair detention with Snape meant only one thing... 

"Do you know what it is that you are making yet, Miss Granger?" The words hung in the air, accompanied by a mirthless smirk. 

"Yes, professor." 

"Well, aren't you going to show off your deductive prowess? Come on girl, out with it!" 

Hermione swallowed, her anger melting into fear. "It's a Recollection Potion, professor," she said, in a tone close to a whisper. 

"And is it finished?" 

"Yes, Professor." 

"Why don't you test it? You will only need a ladleful." The sallow Potions Master looked faintly amused. 

Hermione looked faintly nauseous. 

Knowing that he'd won was enough to make her ill as it was. She had only two options now - to sabotage her own potion, or to drink it. She didn't like the consequences of either. However, her need to redeem herself, after the previous miserable year, overcame her fear of the unknown. Steeling herself, she grasped the silver ladle, heavy in her hand, and slowly dipped it into the simmering potion. The concoction smelt vaguely of lavender, the familiar scent calming her slightly as she raised it to her mouth. 

A quick swallow and a grimace later, Hermione felt none the worse for wear. It was a full minute before the potion began to take effect, her professor looking on intently the whole time. And then she cried.

***


	8. Things Best Forgotten

**A/N: **Well, it's certainly a relief to get this chapter out of the way. I gave myself a bit of a headache writing it, too. That might also have been the Moulin Rouge Soundtrack 2 up full volume though…in any case, I really do need feedback from this chapter, because the next one is going to be just as had to write. Your comments really help; don't be afraid to criticize! I know most of you aren't :P

*****

Chapter 8 –Things Best Forgotten

The tears continued to flow; endless, wracking sobs that echoed through the cold dungeon.

Snape was close to panicking. The girl was curled into a foetal position, the desperate cries nearly choking her as she struggled to breathe through the onslaught of tears. With shaking hands, he fumbled in his drawer for something, anything, that might calm her. His long, slender fingers found nothing save half a dozen quills and a small vial labelled _Midnight Hour Eye-Widener_. Cursing, he strode to her side, but then hesitated. His experiences with women were limited, and never had he been required to console one so distraught.

Uncertainly, he dropped his hand to her shoulder. As soon as he made contact she started violently, as though his fingers were charged and colder than ice. Hermione retreated further into herself, the sobs turning to small, staggered hiccups and she began to shiver. Snape took his cue and went to find a blanket, but upon second thoughts, decided against leaving her. Instead he removed his heavy cloak and placed it around her; the shivers increased briefly, but passed when he moved away. He considered alerting Dumbledore but quickly dismissed the idea, partly out of guilt for his own actions, mostly out of concern for Hermione. He did not like the idea of leaving her alone in this condition while trying to find the elusive Headmaster. The idea of explaining to Dumbledore how she had come to be in this state was not pleasant, either.

So he remained sitting stiffly and silently opposite her, waiting for some sign of awareness. There was nothing else he could do. Terrible thoughts flooded his mind and he ignored them all, subconsciously refusing to consider them. His attention was concentrated on the student huddled in front of him, oblivious to his focus on her.

When she seemed to have calmed, however slightly, the shivers subsiding and the sobs growing less violent, he spoke her name quietly. "Miss Granger. Hermione. Can you hear me?" When she failed to respond the thoughts again crashed against his mental barrier, a restless wave of doubt threatening to sweep away the breakwater in his mind. "Miss Granger, talk to me. Are you in pain?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised her head. Her face was unnaturally white, almost grey, and the level of anxiety he saw there, etched into her otherwise gentle features, alarmed Severus. She was looking at him, but not seeing him. Her eyes were wide and hollow, and he could see the grief staining the dark irises. He began to wonder then, if the potion hadn't gone awry as he had suspected. Perhaps, perhaps this was what she had been hiding from.

*****

After swallowing the concoction, Hermione glared at Snape, who seemed to be quite amused. A flicker of hope sparked in her mind when she realised she might be wrong, maybe there was no memory charm. Maybe she was just paranoid. She could see how she would have come to the conclusion, though. All her symptoms added up to the common side affects of memory loss, depression, confusion, and an unmistakeable vagueness about events recent to the casting of the charm. The one thing she was definitely confused about though, was just who had cast the memory charm. It was so aggravating, having no recollection of the event but suspecting it based on her own character. Had she really been so depressed that she would have cast such a charm on herself? No, even though depression did strange things to the mind, she would never have even considered…

Her head began to feel strangely light, and for a moment time seemed to falter. She stood at the brink of an abyss, staring down into the deep, dark of the unknown. For the moment, she didn't dare breathe for fear of falling, but the air around her seemed to compress and shrink, forcing her forward until she finally lost her balance and was thrown into the nothingness.

It began to close in around her as she continued her freefall into her subconscious. She tried to scream, but it was too fast, surrounded her and flooding her entire being with memories, seeping into her eyes, ears, nose, mouth. Hermione watched helplessly, as glimpses of her life flashed in her mind in no apparent order. In what might have been hours, she saw her entire life played out in random moments. She began to sob, partly in terror, but also in anticipation of what she knew would come next.

And then it was silent. No more visual theatrics that engulfed her mind, no more overwhelming memories, just the simple knowledge that she knew would haunt the rest of her days.

She knew.

The sound of her own cries filled her consciousness, a desperate, choking sob that threatened to drain away all her emotions and leave her with nothing; to leave just the shell, the part of her that knew nothing of pain and grief, and remorse.

Something touched her, out of the darkness, and she screamed without making a sound. It was happening again, no, she couldn't let it happen again. Hermione began to tremble with anxiety, until one shiver overlapped the next and her whole body was engaged in a continuos tremor.

Slowly, she became aware of something, someone, standing over her, and, overcome with terror, she began to choke on her own tears. When something warm and heavy was thrown over her, the convulsions began again with renewed vigour.

After a while, the consistent shuddering became more staggered and infrequent, and she could almost see through the red haze clouding her vision. A voice was calling her, a familiar voice, and she struggled to identify the sound. It called again, and in one last effort she lifted her lead-weighted head to face the owner of voice.

A dark figure was before her. It said, firmly but unmistakeably worriedly, "Miss Granger, talk to me. Are you in pain?"

She groaned, taken so sharply back to the present. The combination of fresh memories and old ones was too much for her, and the tears returned.

"Do you wish to speak about it?" 

She stared up at the face, normally so cold and indifferent, now the only familiar sight she had from which to draw strength. Swallowing the sobs, Hermione managed to mumble only a few words before being consumed by sorrow. "Malfoy," she spoke, thickly, "My parents. I…" Her voice became unintelligible, the words heavily accented with anguish.

Snape was relieved, but only slightly. So it was about her parents. But why the memory charm, if Neffler was right, and she had been getting over it? "Miss Granger, it is generally best to get it off your chest. It wont seem as bad." He realised his mistake as soon as he said it. Her sobbing doubled, and only when she was again in control did she reply, however painfully and arduously.

"I…I killed them."


End file.
